Professionalism
by svenka
Summary: Rorschach decides it's necessary to play well with others, but how can he form connections without actually having to -form connections-?


It wasn't that he disliked social contact. Quite the contrary. He just disliked the physical awareness that came with such things. Awkwardness. Fumblings. He wished to rid the world of such things. Knew that this was an impossible feat.

So when Nite Owl approached him, twisting his cape around his fingers like a school boy, and asked him if he wanted to join some sort of "super hero team," Rorschach wasn't sure what to say.

So he'd said practically nothing. And when Nite Owl babbled on endlessly, happily filling in the gaps with everything Rorschach hadn't said, he found he'd wordlessly agreed to much more than he'd bargained for.

"So I'll come by tomorrow night? Same place?" Nite Owl grinned, his boyish cheeks pushing against the bottoms of his goggles. It was hard to believe this wasn't some child, disguised to look like a man.

"Un," Rorschach murmured, and then he was gone.

Two months later, he found himself looking forward to the contact. He still stiffened uncomfortably whenever Nite Owl was in the room, staring unblinkingly whenever he was spoken to, but the little details didn't seem to matter as much.

"Rorschach," Nite Owl whispered, pointing down over the side of the building, The man in question carried a military grade rifle and was confidently looking back and forth down the alleyway, guarding his tiny portion of the wall. Two months, and already they'd managed to track down a major figurehead of the mob syndicate. Teamwork. He'd always been told it paid off, but until now, had yet to see its successes firsthand.

Rorschach fingered his grappling hook lovingly where it pressed against his side. Nite Owl had offered to make him more toys, but he'd refused. This one was a necessity. A fancy necessity, but still a necessity. He didn't need to be gaudy to be effective.

Although sometimes, he found himself relying much too heavily on Nite Owl's keen perceptions, given light by his night-vision goggles.

"Only one guard," Nite Owl murmured, brow creasing.

"Too easy," Rorschach said in his usual monotone, not bothering to look over the side.

"You're thinking trap?"

"Mm."

"What do you propose we do?"

Insecure. Nite Owl wanted acceptance and guidance almost as much as he wanted to be a hero. It was almost endearing.

"Go," Rorschach said simply, tossing himself over the edge. Nite Owl gasped in spite of himself, although he should've been used to rash action by now. Rorschach was a thinker disguised as a doer. His disguise being, he often didn't let others see his plan of action until he was acting, but by then, it was often far too late to react, giving the impression of complete spontaneity. It was a useful tool when fighting, but utterly frustrating to work with.

Still, whether it was healthy or not, Nite Owl trusted him with his life, and he followed suit, cape catching the wind and slowing his fall.

Rorschach had already taken care of the guard by the simple act of falling on him. Nite Owl opened his mouth to complain that he'd given the grappling hook for a reason, and that such a fall could've easily broken his legs, but the other man was already gone, having disappeared through the metal door, which now sported a sizeable dent and a smashed frame. Nite Owl tossed the guard's gun into the nearest trash bin and chased after his comrade, heart beating with adrenaline.

Rorschach got there first. "There" being the trap. The trap being a wall of guards. With guns. Real guns. He didn't bother calling out to Nite Owl. Figured the sound of the guns would take care of that for him.

Or perhaps the sound of this idiot's voice.

"So, you thought you could find us so easily, hm? Rorschach, I presume? Making quite a name for yourself, kid, but if I were you, I'd find a new pastime. We'll give you one chance to walk out of here before we-"

He was cut off. A fist to the throat often has that effect.

The man staggered backwards, gulping air across his crushed windpipe as he motioned violently at Rorschach. His guards took a second to understand the gasped "fire at will" command, which was a second too long to save themselves. Rorschach barreled into the crowd, tucking and rolling among their feet. Guns blazed in a frenzy of activity, knocking out half the force with straight shots or ricochets before anyone knew what had happened. Yelling. Screaming. Cursing. Rorschach breathed in the environment and got to work, flooring anyone nearby. His fist met with little opposition. Stick a gun in any city boy's arms and you can call it an army. Doesn't make it an army.

After the first thirty seconds of confused fighting, most of the force had either fled or lay bleeding, whimpering to respective parents and god-figures.

A pressure on the back of his shoulder made Rorschach whirl, and his fist connected far before his eyes had delivered a certain important message to his brain.

Nite Owl's head snapped back with a sickening crunch, and he landed on his back. Rorschach stood for a moment, dumbfounded, before approaching awkwardly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but, unable to think of anything reasonable, shut it again. What did one usually say in such situations? Sorry for decking you? Be more careful? Wow, you sure went down easily? Why the fuck did you touch me?

"Uggh," Nite Owl groaned, curling over onto his side, one hand splayed across his face. Rorschach held out a hand, which was either unseen or ignored as the other man climbed unsteadily to his feet. He retracted his hand.

He supposed it would be unkind to ask if Nite Owl could keep going, but a quick perusal of the room answered that problem. Dead end. Damn. More researched would be required. Much more. He would have to pay his previous informants a visit. They should be pleased to be called on by a dead man.

"Dead end. Let's go," Rorschach declared, heading toward the door.

"Uh."

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the source of the noise, almost drowned out by the moaning of the injured littering the cold concrete. Nite Owl was bent over slightly, hands pressed to his eyes. Rorschach paused, wondering if he did more damage than he'd thought, and made his way back.

You ok?

That was what he should've asked, but his mouth was dry.

"I just… uh… My goggles," Nite Owl said lowly, his hand brushing the air in front of him. "The night vision isn't working, but it won't switch back to basic mode."

Understood. He couldn't very well take them off. Not with so many survivors, and his identity at stake. And to think, a few minutes ago he had almost coveted those goggles.

Rorschach caught the man's hand, Nite Owl jumping at the contact before realizing its originator, or perhaps jumping because of its originator. Contact.

He willed himself to think nothing as he led the way out, sidestepping bodies with great care of his charge, his fingers loose but steady around Nite Owl's palm. When they got outside, they were presented with another problem.

Archie was on the building. The building was climbable, but only by a man who could see. There was silence as Nite Owl realized what was happening.

"Oh, I'll call Archie," he mumbled, fumbling with his clothes.

"Alley's too narrow," Rorschach interjected. He already knew the solution. Knew it before they'd walked out the door. The truth cut through the silence as he tried to create justifications for not following the obvious course of action.

The grappling hook hadn't been properly tested. It might not carry two people. It could break. They could die.

But that was a lie. If it broke, they would simply land again, as they had before, only slightly more interestingly due to Nite Owl's little vision problem.

"This is ridiculous," Nite Owl laughed. "Nobody's here, right?"

Rorschach's jaw tightened. That solution was even worse than his. Identity was nothing to be trifled with. He stepped forward, locking his arm around his comrade's waist, feeling the muscles tighten underneath.

"Rorschach? What-?" his voice was higher than usual. Strain. The usual awkward fumbling Rorschach hated so much.

"Hold on," he mumbled. The grappling hook whistled as it flew through the air, clanging as it locked around a pipe somewhere above. Nite Owl didn't need to be told twice, since there usually wasn't a second telling when it came to Rorschach. Sometimes there wasn't even a first. He groped around until his arms locked around the smaller man's shoulders, and they were yanked upward into the darkness.

As soon as their feet touched solid ground, Rorschach pulled back, unfamiliar with the alien warmth that felt so disgusting against his side. Nite Owl wasn't a girl. Not that it would be more acceptable with a girl.

"I'm surprised that held," Nite Owl said shakily, absent-mindedly touching his goggles, as he often did when he was nervous. Rorschach wondered where he picked up that habit. Like a man with glasses. Again, the possibility of something endearing raced through his mind, but he stifled it, letting himself instead be filled with frustration at having come up short against the mob. The feeling held less of an impact than usual, however, and he found his thoughts trailing back again to his partner.

He grasped his hand again, pulling him up into Archie.

They sat for a moment in the metallic bird's belly, an awkward silence filling every crevice. Nite Owl swallowed audibly, then looked down abashed, realizing how audible it had been.

"Uh, well. I mean, you can't drive Archie…"

"No."

"I can't see…"

"Hn."

"Rorschach," he stammered, fingering his goggles. Rorschach didn't like where this was going.

"I'll walk home," he said easily, making for the door.

"Rorschach! Wait, I'm serious. We've been together," he paused, but continued in a rush, "for two months now. I'd trust you with my life, so why not my identity? Really, it's silly!"

And before Rorschach could say another word on the matter, Nite Owl's fingers were fumbling at the goggles. He just stood there dumbly, wanting to flee. This felt wrong. This wasn't what they did. They didn't reveal themselves to one another. They worked together. They…

…They…

"Hi. I'm Dan Dreiberg," Nite Owl blinked up at him, a shaky grin on his boyish face. Rorschach told himself to start breathing again, and his lungs obeyed. Nite Owl, Dan, held out a hand, as if this were their first meeting.

So wrong. This was so wrong.

"Nite Owl," Rorschach fumbled with the words, stepping back, and Nite Owl lowered his hand clumsily.

"I just thought, since I had to take them off anyway," he trailed off, grinning in embarrassment, then shifted to Archie's controls. Rorschach stood there silently, watching as he pushed buttons, confidently pushing some, squinting at others.

"You wear glasses," he said evenly, and Nite Owl jumped again, obviously expecting a silent ride home. At least, a silent ride until he dropped Rorschach off, then a silent ride back to his own hidden location.

"Yeah, I do. Not totally blind, though," he laughed, looking back again. Rorschach could see his pupils dilating just a bit too much.

"You safe to fly?" he asked evenly.

"Probably, but I'm putting Archie on auto-pilot, just in case," he twisted back to the controls, squinting ever so often. Secure in his safety, Rorschach took the seat in Archie's other eye, staring at the buildings as they dropped away.

Trust him with life, but not with identity. How could a person like Nite Owl, this soft, strong man named Dan, understand that his identity _was_ Rorschach? He'd avoided such conversations at all costs, avoided most conversations completely, and yet somehow it had still landed fully in his lap.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me anything," Dan said, his usual pleasant self again, feeling in control now that Archie was off the ground. "I just figured, with the present circumstances, it wouldn't hurt, y'know?"

Rorschach was silent.

"Ah!" Nite Owl exclaimed suddenly, jumping off his chair. "Sorry, I set it for my home… forgot… Got all carried away with the whole… but yeah, just push that button there, and," he pointed to the dashboard in front of Rorschach, filled to the brim with oddly-shaped buttons. Rorschach's eyes glazed over them, his hand hovering above the console. Which..? "No, that one there. The one with the two lines.." Nite Owl leaned over, trying to push it himself, knowing from memory which button was the correct one. Rorschach attempted to gain his feet, feeling cramped by the situation and the buttons and the tight space and Nite Owl breathing warm air into his collar, but when he pushed himself up, he caught Dan in the chin with his shoulder, and when he tried to find footing, his feet found Dan's.

Nite Owl fell sideways as he tried to extract himself, realizing his mistake far too late. Since his personal space bubble was larger than most people's, he had trouble remembering that Rorschach's was even wider than his own.

Their feet twisted together, and they fell into the side of the ship, all limbs and muscles, which were fantastic for fighting, but useless when robbed of their grace. Archie didn't even jostle, unaware of their potentially damning contact. Nite Owl tried to pull himself away as quickly as possible, but his leg was jammed between Archie's seat and… Rorschach's leg. Which seemed to have plenty of free space on the other side, but wasn't budging.

Dan turned his eyes apologetically to Rorschach's shifting face, finding it turned upward to his own, every muscle impossibly taut beneath him. It felt as though he'd landed on a warm, slightly-padded rock.

But at least a rock would have the decency to roll away and free his leg.

Especially if the rock were putting him in an incredibly uncompromising position.

Especially especially if the rock were close enough to see every flicker of emotion on his embarrassed face. He should never have taken off his goggles. Blindness was far better than staring uncomprehendingly at this moving jigsaw puzzle breathing warm air across his face.

"Rorschach," he whispered softly, and the rock below seemed to snap to life, waking from its reverie. Rorschach jerked back against Archie's side, arms and legs and all, twisting his face away as he shrank away from Nite Owl's touch.

Too much contact. Far too much contact for one day. The world squirmed nauseatingly around him as Rorschach bit down the odd touch sensations flickering across his skin. Far too much. He would have to hole himself up for weeks to repair the damage. And even then, it might not be repaired. Stupid Nite Owl. Stupid mask. Stupid brown eyes, finally focusing with utmost clarity on his face.

For a moment, Rorschach felt as though Nite Owl, with his piercing vision, could see right through his face, to the flesh below. It was unnerving. Sickening. Who would possibly want to see through such a mask?

"I'm sorry, I tripped. Didn't mean to," but Nite Owl's voice trailed off as he watched Rorschach shrink deeper into himself. "Are you ok?"

Three words. Three words Rorschach could never bring himself to say. How they bubbled so easily, yet so sincerely, from Nite Owl's lips.

"Fine."

That was a lie, but what else could he say? That his skin crawled across his bones, but not unpleasantly? That the idea of such feelings made him physically ill? That he wanted to do things that would've made even his stupid whore of a mother weep? Sin. The city was full of fornication and whores and sin. He wouldn't be a part of it.

Dan's brow furrowed, but he pulled himself to his feet all the same. It wasn't like he could argue. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but it felt like whatever invisible wall he'd been slowly chipping away at had just be refortified. He put out a shaky hand to help the other man to his feet. After a few moments, it was taken. Good sign. He let out a sigh, making his way back over to his side of Archie.

Rorschach took his place on the other, and for a good while, nobody spoke. After the silence had settled from odd tension into comfort, Nite Owl realized with a jolt of frustration that he'd never redirected the course. They were still headed toward his home.

"Uh, I forgot. The button," he pointed now from a safe distance. "Two lines pointing up with one through it. That'll stop the protocol. Where do you want to be dropped off?"

There was a long silence, but Rorschach didn't move, not even to press the button. Dan frowned, wondering if the other man were being petty, until he remembered that Rorschach didn't get petty.

"This is fine," he said in his usual gravelly tone, taking Dan by surprise.

"But we're going-" Nite Owl interjected, thinking he'd surely been misunderstood.

"This is fine," Rorschach repeated, settling back comfortably into his chair.

Nite Owl stared at him for a moment, then smiled, settling back into his own. Perhaps they weren't doomed, after all.


End file.
